


and I'll be your true love forever

by simonspeaks



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Drowners - Freeform, M/M, Soulmates, geralt is SOFT, writing soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonspeaks/pseuds/simonspeaks
Summary: Jaskier goes along on a commission to get rid of a band of drowners plaguing a town. In the process, Jaskier loses his notebook, Geralt's a softie, and they discover they're destined to be more than friends.When you write on your skin the same mark appears on the same place on your soulmate's body.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 543





	and I'll be your true love forever

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be about 1k and then I kept adding more and it ended up being 3k  
> No, I'm not proud of my songwriting skills, but I'm just gonna leave it as is  
> The title's from Red Is The Rose by The High Kings

Geralt of Rivia didn’t believe in soulmates. Soulmates, if they did exist, were likely only reserved for those with better fortunes. 

He traveled the Continent fighting monsters, collecting coin, and visiting brothels for the occasional fuck. 

The first time he woke with markings on his arms that he did not put there, he was confused. He tried scrubbing the words off, but it was fruitless. He sighed and left it alone, putting on his armor to ensure it was hidden. making sure his armor covered his forearm. They were simple words, really,  _ bring lute.  _ It was written in black ink.

He met Jaskier a few years later, while he was in the corner of a tavern brooding and drinking his ale. The sound of the lute drew his attention, though he didn’t pay the player any mind until he asked for a review on his song.

Jaskier often wrote songs on their travels and collected tidbits of inspiration in a notebook. He tucked it into a pocket on his person, it being one of his most prized possessions. 

“Now, really Geralt. This notebook has all my ideas, my inspirations, my dreams. Would you take that away from a man?” Jaskier said as he put the notebook back in his pocket. The day was clear and bright as he strutted along Roach.

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “Fine.”

  
  


The mission was nothing new to Geralt, but Jaskier decided it would be the makings of one of his greatest ballads yet and tagged along with Geralt on a hunt for drowners that’d been driving down the number of customers and travelers to a small town in the outskirts of Vizima.

“Stay with Roach,” Geralt told him when they came to the area they were rumored to lurk in. They were still about a quarter of a mile away from the drowners’ location, but Geralt pulled out his silver sword and held it at his side. 

Jaskier was already pulling his notebook and quill out of the hidden pocket in his shirt. “You better give me good details then.” He tilted the feather up to point at his friend. “Else there will be no ballad of your grand duel with death.”

“Hmm.” Geralt walked to meet the drowners near on the banks of the river

Jaskier followed silently behind him, watching the way Geralt moved and writing notes on how to describe it in the most attractive way possible.  _ The way the witcher walks, makes people balk, his silver sword in hand, let’s strike up the band.  _

“Stop following me.”

“Just taking notes, s’all.”

“Hmm.” 

A large splash arose when Geralt took foot onto the banks of the river. A slimy green hand slid out and grabbed him by the ankle. The owner of the hand did not display themself but it took less than a second for Geralt to determine what it was.  _ Drowner.  _

Geralt chopped off the hand just below the elbow. The drowner now rose up out of the water screeching its battle cry, eager to hurt Geralt. 

Around the first drowner, a group of eight more arose out of the water, swarming towards Geralt. 

Jaskier stood and watched a few yards behind him, watching the fight instead of writing details down. He held his notebook tightly in his left hand and his quill in the other. 

As the drowners drew closer, Geralt swung his silver sword around in circles in an attempt to keep them off of him. He made a slashing movement in an attempt to break up the action. He twirled, dancing his way onto the more stable ground and away from the drowners’ home. He drew a little closer to Jaskier, and at that moment a few of the drowners made a split-second decision. They lunged forward towards Jaskier and he, too busy looking at Geralt, was taken unaware. 

Jaskier was pulled off his feet and into the water by a drowner, subtly named so by someone who escaped their attacks so long ago, but he only tightened his grip on his notebook.

“Geralt!” he cried. 

Geralt swung his sword at the five drowners surrounding him. Geralt quickly disposed of two of them, swinging his blade around in quick motion. He sliced off one’s head and cut the other through their chests. They fell to the ground with ease.

The two remaining circled around him and jumped at him at the same time. Geralt ducked, rolling onto his back. He slashed up and drowner blood came pouring down onto him. The bodies dropped to the ground beside him, twitching slightly before going still. 

He then walked quickly towards the swamp, swinging his blade around him in circles, more for style than anything else. There were another four drowners dragging Jaskier into the swampy water.

Jaskier’s legs were fully submerged and the drowners were about one quick tug from completely submerging him. They had him by the legs and were dragging him across the muddy ground and into the quickly deepening water.

The two nearest to him were easy to take care of. He swung his sword, decapitating them. Their heads fell onto the bank, making a squishing sound as they sank into the mud.

Geralt took the dagger from his belt and flung it at the drowner that had Jaskier’s left leg. He hit his mark and the knife was buried deep into the drowner’s skull. It fell backward into the water with a splash.

The other let out a scream and gave another tried even harder to pull him into the water, tugging. Jaskier slid deeper into the water but Jaskier used his free leg to kick at the other and tried to hoist himself up onto the banks, digging his elbows into the terrain. 

“Stop.”

Jaskier turned to look at him, his leg still in a fighting position. The drowner didn’t listen to his instruction and gave another tug to Jaskier’s leg.

The witcher swung his sword and removed the drowner’s head from its body with a clean swipe. 

The grip on Jaskier’s leg loosened, though Jaskier had been pulled just under the surface of the water.

He came coughing up. Geralt sheathed his sword and pulled him up by his armpits until he was standing in front of him. Jaskier put his arm out and rested his hand on Geralt’s shoulder, coughing up swamp water. 

“Are you okay?”

Jaskier looked up at him without turning his head. He let out another great cough and let that answer for him. 

“Come on, we’ll get you some water.” Geralt looked down at his sopping wet outfit. “And some dry clothes.” 

Jaskier let out a little cough, attempting to get the taste of the swamp water out and soothe the way it burned his throat. As Jaskier coughed into his elbow, his eyes caught on the notebook in hand. It was sopping wet. An expression of horror and despair overcame his face.

Geralt turned to him, trying to be as gentle as possible. “What is it?”

He held impossibly close to his heart. Jaskier’s eyes were hot with tears, though they didn’t fall.

“Hey, it’ll be okay, Jaskier,” Geralt said. He put his hand out and placed it under Jaskier’s own.

Jaskier traced over the cover with his thumbs. “My songs,” he said weakly. Even with Geralt’s super hearing, it was soft and full of pain. 

Geralt was silent as Jaskier opened the notebook almost full to the brim with words and melodies. The ink was smeared on many of the pages and they were nearly see-through with all the water they’d taken in. 

“We’ll fix it,” Geralt said. He patted Jaskier on the shoulder and went to retrieve his dagger from the floating drowner’s forehead.

They walked past the dead drowners, whose black blood was seeping into the ground beneath them, to where Roach was tied to a tree near the road. Jaskier put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and he himself put an arm around Jaskier’s waist.

Soon, their horse was in sight. Roach whinnied when she saw them. 

Geralt let Jaskier ride Roach while he walked, leading them into town to collect their pay. They weren’t invited to stay the night at the inn, so they made camp a few miles out of town. The evening was young as Geralt prepared the fire and Jaskier laid out their bedrolls. 

The sun was about half an hour from setting, setting the landscape in a dying yellow.

Geralt cooked dinner while Jaskier changed into dry clothes and set his others on a log in front of the fire. They set out the notebook by the fire and within hours it dries out. The ink was still smudged, but the sight of the notebook drying was enough to dry up his tears. 

He took it tenderly in his hands and traced the words with his fingertips. 

Geralt spoke softly that night, the orange glow of the fire dancing on his skin. 

As the days went on, the writing Geralt hadn’t seen in years appeared back on his arm. The script was still the same, though it seemed more refined now. It wasn’t more than a few words, reading:  _ and I’ll be your true love forever. _

They decided to go to a town and listen in for stories of monsters tormenting the lands. The day was bright and sunny and warm. A light breeze whispered through the streets, giving just enough fresh air for the day to be perfect. 

Roach was at the stables at the inn they were staying at, and Geralt and Jaskier were at the market. Geralt was in need of a new dagger and Jaskier was looking for whatever caught his eye. Jaskier had sung up a storm the last few nights and Geralt had been paid handsomely in the last town so they had enough money for a month yet. 

They wandered mainly near each other, their arms brushing ever so often.

Geralt wore his high-waisted pants and his billowing shirt that gave him enough room to move around comfortably in. His hair was tied back in his normal half ponytail, though a few spare hairs framed his face. 

They’d found him a new dagger fairly soon. It was one of the stalls nearest to where they’d come in from the direction of the inn. The one he’d picked out seemed sturdy enough to stand up in a fight and was made of silver. The handle had a pattern of flowers carved around it, which Jaskier had thought was brilliant. 

Jaskier walked beside him, wearing a blue doublet with a bright yellow threaded in between the stitches, made to look like stars. He walked with a bounce in his step, though his lute was left back in their room at the inn for he hadn’t wanted to carry it to the market and back when he wouldn’t be using it. He tapped his fingers on his thigh and his attention flitted in between the different wares they passed by.

Geralt did the same, though his attention kept going back to his partner. 

Jaskier’s attention was drawn to a merchant selling wares for instruments. On a table made of polished wood, he had rosin and oils to make instruments really shine. Alongside the oils, he had a couple of lutes. The dull red tent covering ahead blocked out the sun from his eyes.

“Oi, Geralt, come look over here.” 

Jaskier showed him the different things and was still marveling over them when Geralt told him he’d go get drinks for the two of them. 

Jaskier nodded in his direction, not taking his eyes off the lute that was shining clean and brand new.

Geralt made his way through the crowd, keeping an eye out for drinks. 

“Freshly bound books! Handmade paper!” yelled a merchant who wasn’t getting much business. People walked past the stand with barely more than a look to the merchant. 

Geralt drew closer. 

“Ah, a fine man, if I do say so myself. Come, I’m sure you’re wanting paper to write to your many mistresses.”

Geralt scowled when he realized the merchant was talking to him and began to walk away.

“Wait!” 

Geralt turned back and something caught his eye. On the table in front of the merchant there were notebooks of many different sizes. Some meant for long stories of adventures, and others for small things. They were sorted by size. He took a few steps toward the table.

“Surely you see something you like?” The man gave the smile of someone who knows they’ve won. 

“How much for this?” Geralt pointed to a small handheld notebook with a leather cover the color of blood. 

“Ten orens.”

“Hmm.” Geralt took out the money and paid the man, tucking the notebook into his pant pocket. 

He went and got drinks for him and Jaskier and meandered back to the lute stall, listening to the people milling around and enjoying the sunshine. Jaskier was still there, looking over the different kinds of oils.

“I have an elven lute, so which oil do you think would be best for buffing it up?”

“It’s elven, Jaskier, you don’t need to do that.”

Jaskier turned to face him, excitement spread across his face. “There you are, Geralt! I was wondering when you’d be back.” 

Geralt extended his arm and Jaskier took the drink. 

“Thank you.”

Jaskier ended up buying some rosin for his lute and they walked back to the inn. 

The path back was open to the left, with large fields stretching out to the horizon. To the right was the beginnings of a forest.

Geralt waited until they were alone before he gave Jaskier the gift. Until then it burned his skin, thinking of how and when to give it to his bard. 

Geralt pulled the notebook out from his pocket and handed it to Jaskier, keeping his eyes forward to the sight of the inn in the distance. 

Jaskier stopped in his tracks. “Is that…?” He reached out, letting his fingers run over the cover. 

Geralt sighed lightly and stopped as well, turning to his friend. “I thought you’d like it,” he mumbled, looking down at the dirt road.

“Like it? Geralt, I love it.” He took it into his hands, holding it tenderly. He glanced from the notebook up to Geralt. “You know, you’re actually very sweet.”

Geralt turned his face up minutely and glared in a joking manner at Jaskier. 

“Oh come on, admit it.” Jaskier had a smile on his face, one that was soft and that he hadn’t seen in more than a week. 

Geralt let himself smile.

Jaskier started writing in it quickly and soon the words on Geralt’s arms started to fade away. 

That night Geralt calls up a bath and Jaskier laces it with salts and oils. There’s enough room for both of them to bathe but instead, they took turns. 

Jaskier went first since he’s the least dirty of the two of them. When he undressed, Geralt saw words tracing along his arm in blank ink.

_ He must have someone special,  _ he thought, but beyond that didn’t pay attention to it.

Geralt, in the caring mood, helped him with finding a towel and gave him the soaps he wants. Once Jaskier was situated Geralt sat on the stool in the corner and they carried a conversation. 

“Found any signs of a monster in the area?”

Geralt shook his head. “Not yet.”

Jaskier laid back in the tub, submerging his hair. He ran his fingers through it, taking his time in cleaning himself. 

Once he was finished he got out of the bath and wrapped the towel around his waist. 

Geralt’s eyes were drawn to Jaskier’s bare chest and the way his hair stuck to his skin. Water droplets rolled down his chest and slid under the edge of the towel. Geralt swallowed.

“Your turn.” Jaskier went to his pack and got dressed. 

Geralt undressed and folded his clothes, putting them next to the stool, before walking over to the still warm water and sliding in. The water helped him relax. He closed his eyes and set his head against the side of the tub. His arms stayed below the water.

Jaskier padded over in his bare feet. “Well, don’t you look relaxed,” he said softly. A smile played along his lips as he looked down at his friend. 

Geralt didn’t open his eyes, but he did smile. “Hmm.”

Jaskier moved the stool from the corner of the room to beside the tub and sat on it. He took the soap from the floor and dunked it under the surface of the water before rubbing it in small circles on Geralt’s shoulder. 

Geralt opened his eyes at this. “Thank you.”

Jaskier looked surprised, looking Geralt in the eye before quickly focusing back on his shoulder. A blush rose on his cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

Geralt kept his eyes open and focused on Jaskier. The way he moved, his soft expression, how he looked in the candlelight. 

He cleaned down the witcher’s shoulder until he would have to reach under the water to clean more. He pulled up Geralt’s arm into his lap, his eyes traveling down it.

His eyes widened when he saw words written in blank ink slanting across Geralt’s forearm. “You.”

Geralt followed Jaskier’s eyes down to the words on his arm. “What?”

Jaskier took his attention off of Geralt’s arm and pulled his sleeve up, revealing the exact same words Geralt had on his arm. He looked at Geralt in the eye, his gaze strong. “It’s you.”

Geralt looked back and forth between the identical words on his arm and Jaskier’s. 

“Does this mean you’ll accept that destiny exists?”

Geralt didn’t know what to say. He reached out his hand and took Jaskier’s, pulling it gently towards him. He pressed a kiss to the back of his friend’s-  _ soulmate’s _ , he reminded himself- hand. “I kind of have to, given the circumstances, don’t you think?”


End file.
